


Who gave him permission to leave?

by ravensfrost



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sherlock-centric, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:36:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensfrost/pseuds/ravensfrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's leaving but Sherlock never gave him permission to do so.</p><p>Old fic but inspired to post here after watching the start of the new series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who gave him permission to leave?

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously written only for enjoyment and not profit.
> 
> As a warning to you Sherlock is not a fluffy bunny in this, either emotionally or literally. Hmm now I want to write a fic with Sherlock as a curly haired rabbit solving crimes with his partner Watson the guinea pig.
> 
> Revised (and hopefully improved) version of a fic I posted a while ago on FF.net. I'm attempting to improve my writing so if any generous person has or feels like reading that version as well and inform me if this one if better or worse I would be most grateful (on there as the same name).
> 
> Edited for easier reading.

John was going to leave. John, his John, his Watson, was going to leave. The one person who didn't get annoyed at his generally eccentric personality. The one who didn't spend all his time trying to change him, though had succeeded in some areas regardless. The one man that regardless of being normal was interesting. The man who had realised that he should be awestruck and not just irritated at the brilliance that is Sherlock Holmes. The one person whom he could tolerate as a flatmate, assistant and even in something resembling a friendship, strange as that term feels. The one person who loved him without lies and masks and even with all the body parts in the fridge, was leaving.

John was at the door with a bag in hand and he was leaving. Who gave him permission to do that? I certainly hadn't. He's mine. Moving in with that damned woman, didn't she get the hint that she wasn't welcome to play with my toys? Blast it she could have any of my other toys Anderson, Molly, Sally, even Lestrade. Any of the toys he'd already broken, chipped at or planned to but not John. Not his favourite. Not the one toy he wanted to keep whole. John was blathering something about relationships and closeness and the need to move forward in them or some such. Trivial. John was opening the door. Not trivial. The door was opening and when it finished John would leave and the door would close. That could not happen. Before the thought had finished I felt myself lunge forward and slam the door shut. John started to turn, probably to say something sharp about my erratic behaviour but I couldn't let that happen and pushed him hard sending him spinning. Back slamming against the door, eyes wide and mouth parting in a gasp, stunned just long enough for me to surge forward and kiss him. John was leaning back. No that was a bad thing. Don't give him time to think, to do anything. Pushing forward to kiss him again. The kiss wasn't gentle but that appeared not to matter as John groaned and began to lean into my touches. Probably mistaking the forcefulness for passion rather than just an attempt to distract him, but judging from the reaction the kiss was achieving it's purpose. Yes the response was definitely a positive one, even with my little experience in this area that fact would be hard to miss. Though sex is messy and generally undesirable, if it would result in keeping John then it will be more than worth it. Pulling back and seeing a very flushed and slightly panting John sent a rush of adrenaline through my system at the realisation of the power that I had just gained. Yes this could work out quite to my benefit. I looked down at John and caught his eye. I would need the full weight of my gaze for this to work. John for all that he saw the best in people was not a man easily swayed.

"Stay. Don't go", damn. Wrong tone, too commanding. John's eyes sharpen as he began to gather his arguments, remembering that dull woman and pulling back. Not literally of course as the solid wood of the door made that quite impossible but I am most certain that 'pulling back' is the correct turn of phrase regardless of actual physical ability to do so.

"Sherlock. This, us, it", a deep breath. John is looking for something, hmm, oh.

"Please", a little more whiny than intended but effective. John's eyelids close, a sure sign of his submission and so I kiss him again. I fully intend to to make him forget all about that woman and the bag he has dropped and his intention to leave.

I do not profess my love and he does not ask for it. It matters little now, but when he finally asks I have the answer. I shall tell him in all honesty that I love him. Just as I would tell my violin should it ever ask. Though I will probably say little more than that. I do love him, my most cherished possession and I intend to ensure that his female is fully informed of this and much more. After all, I don't like losing.


End file.
